The way Logan saw it, fate had a pretty fucked up sense of humor. It was either that or Murphy or random chance were out to get him, but for some reason Logan had always subscribed more to the idea of fate. He had no idea why. Maybe it was because fate was supposed to be a woman, or a group of women, and everyone knew women could be real bitches, taking vindictiveness to all new levels. Fate sure could be a bitch.
It had to have been fate that made him go out to smoke on the back terrace of the mansion only minutes before Rogue showed up. Since he was still pretty confused over the way she had reacted to his congratulations about her control, he slipped back into the shadows, grateful for the fact that he was downwind of her. He wasn't ready yet to ask her what the fuck all that had been about.
Of course, just because he was standing in shadows didn't mean that he couldn't see her just fine. She was wearing some red bit of fabric that barely covered her assets—or her ass—and draped around her in a way designed to drive men crazy. So of course he worried, especially when he turned back to the house and he saw the way she'd painted herself up so that her eyes were somehow wide and deep at the same time, her cheeks rosy and her skin looking so smooth...
Yeah, he was just worried. What if some guy got the wrong idea? He understood that she wanted to have a good time now that she didn't have to worry that a little bump skin to skin would drain some random stranger and have him living in her head for the rest of her life. He got it. But he didn't think that the guys at this club he'd heard her and her friends talking about were going to take into consideration the fact that she wasn't exactly the most experienced girl around.
Following the girls to that club had been an eye opener, that's for sure. First Rogue had danced to the fast songs with her friends, only brushing occasionally against this guy or that, flirting for the hell of it. If it had been anyone else, it would have been fun to watch. Since it was Rogue, and he knew he had to protect her, he watched from the shadows of one corner of the bar and waited for some jerk to make a wrong move, to hurt her.
Then, when Rogue, Jubilee and Kitty slowed down long enough to get their drinks, that guy stepped up. He oozed charm, and sure he was built, but should that have been enough for that prolonged spike of arousal he could smell from Rogue across the room? She was around handsome guys all day. Few of the grown men at the school were slouches in the looks department. Yet Rogue smiled at him like she'd been waiting for him all her life, placed her hand in his and let him lead her to the dance floor.
Where they proceeded to put on the kind of show that would have done a couple of porn stars proud. Logan knew his mouth had dropped open, cigar dangling from numb lips, as that man's hands roamed all over Rogue...and hers reciprocated. Her arousal wasn't just spiked. It was through the roof. Logan would have shouted at them to get a room, but he couldn't say something like that to Rogue, for goodness sake! He could tell that no one else was likely to, either. Every eye in the place was on them, even the ones belonging to those on the dance floor, even her friends, and the smell of arousal threatened to drown him. Logan grew hard watching it, and that made him feel as guilty as hell and pretty damn angry, too.
He was still trying to assimilate seeing Rogue as something sexual when she and her dance partner returned to the booth she'd been sitting at. She managed to get Kitty to go out and dance, then she and the stranger with the weird eyes proceeded to have a make out session that had the potential to top their previous performance. Logan shifted uncomfortably on his bar stool. This felt a little too much like voyeurism, but he couldn't look away.
The rest of the night dragged on through more of Rogue dancing, through Kitty and Jubilee drinking, and finally through all three staggering out, tired but happy expressions on their faces. Logan slipped out of the club after them and drove home, telling himself that he was only following them to make sure Rogue didn't fall asleep at the wheel. He knew she hadn't been drinking, but fatigue could do bad things to a person's response times, too. That's what he told himself.
He also told himself he wasn't brooding. And when he arrived back at the mansion and decided to go chop up some wood, well, he just needed to blow off some steam, right? It had been a stressful week, what with the kids all tense over exams, some of them not paying attention in their combat lessons and forcing him to be less than his usual gentle self, and Jean first teasing him and then pulling back. He'd been wanting to scream at her to make up her damn mind as they went in to dinner that evening.
So between his need to let off steam, a night spent struggling to get the picture of Rogue in that dress with some stranger's hands all over her out of his mind, and the dream that followed, Logan was not in a very good mood the next morning. He sure as hell wasn't in the mood for Rogue's chatter about her night or her happiness over her new control. The way she ate that strawberry, staring right at him, as he entered the dining room didn't help at all. It occurred to him when he sat down far away from her that she might be hurt by his action, but when he glanced at her quickly she seemed totally unconcerned. Instead, she was concentrating on the remains of what must have been a huge amount of food. Logan was much too aware of her as she got up to leave, so he kept his attention on his own food, silent curses filling his mind.
Fate played another little joke on him a couple hours later. He'd been about to enter the kitchen to get a nice cold beer when he heard Ororo and Rogue talking. Curious what those two might be talking about as they'd never spent much time together that he saw, and not wanting to interrupt what seemed to be an intense conversation, he froze with a hand raised and dawning horror as he grasped the details of their conversation. Sex advice. God, could this get worse? And Rogue was asking about how soon was too soon...Something inside him wanted to roar that she was too young to be thinking like that, dammit, and she needed to get her head out of the gutter. But he knew that she wasn't too young, so he kept his mouth shut and listened, since his feet didn't want to cooperate and let him leave.
Finally they left the kitchen, and Logan was able to get the beer he needed more than ever now. Only he didn't go to the refrigerator right away. Instead, something propelled him to go to the window and watch the two women, one so young and the other really not much older, when you thought about it. He was furious, but he really didn't know why. He didn't have any reason to be angry, did he? Rogue was being smart. She was getting advice from another woman, letting someone else know that she was on the hunt for someone. If she got hurt, there would be help.
Only Rogue wasn't supposed to get hurt, dammit. She was supposed to stay wrapped up in her nice layers, such a threat that only he, with his healing power, wasn't afraid to touch her. Wasn't she?
Rogue was nowhere to be found for the rest of the day. Not that he'd tried, mind you. He spent a few hours in the Danger Room, and by the time he came out she'd gone shopping with her friends. Logan told himself that was a good thing. He needed some time without constantly tripping over her to figure out what his brain was doing when it came to the way he was now thinking about Rogue. Beating up things in the Danger Room had helped relieve some of the aggression, but the confused anger he felt was definitely still there.
Then, as he was passing their room to get to his, Logan heard Rogue's voice. A little concentration told him that she was making a date with someone named Bryan. What a pussy name. Then he heard Jubilee say something that made him want to rip something to little tiny shreds.
“C'mon, chicas. We need to pick out what you're going to wear tomorrow—starting with that sexy black bra and panty set from Victoria Secrets. You know, the ones with the little pink hearts printed all over and the pink bows.”
Picturing Rogue wearing nothing but that, in that man's arms, was enough to have the claws flying before he thought. Scott was just going to have to deal with the remains of the vase that Logan left behind. He had bigger problems to worry about, like the erection he'd gotten from that image despite his rage.
Fate had to be woman, because she sure as hell was a bitch.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Well, this next chapter was supposed to be about Rogue's date with Bryan, but all the reviews I've gotten have made me feel just the tiniest bit sorry for Logan (not enough to end the suffering), so I thought I'd explain his problems a little.
Chapter End Notes:
Next comes Rogue's date, I promise.